


The British Male in Its Natural Habitat

by ladililn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, Lazy Mornings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 17:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17084249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladililn/pseuds/ladililn
Summary: “Say something stupid,” Merlin says.Arthur quirks an eyebrow. “Like what?”“Anything. Literally anything that comes out of your mouth will count.”“That’s incredibly rude.”“Yes, perfect.” Merlin burrows into Arthur’s side, letting out a hum of contentment. “What a pointless conversation this is.”





	The British Male in Its Natural Habitat

**Author's Note:**

> I found this silly little ficlet from nearly two years ago in my documents while looking for something completely different and thought it would fit in pretty well with [artypendragon's Merthur Kiss Fest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/merthur_kiss_fest). I really never meant for it to see the light of day, but I am trying to have lower standards for myself and the things I put into this world (perfectionism is no one's friend!), so hopefully someone will enjoy it.

“Say something stupid,” Merlin says.

Arthur quirks an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Anything. Literally anything that comes out of your mouth will count.”

“That’s incredibly rude.”

“Yes, perfect.” Merlin burrows into Arthur’s side, letting out a hum of contentment. “What a pointless conversation this is.”

They’re in bed in a cocoon of early morning laziness, sunlight staining the rumpled comforter yellow-gold. “Why are we having it, then?” Arthur asks, rumbly-voiced with sleep.

“Mm. Why not?”

“And you accuse me of loving the sound of my own voice. Seems like you’re the one with that problem.”

Merlin opens his eyes, grins wickedly. “Guilty. I don’t know what it is, exactly—your stupid posh accent, or—”

“—the stupid things I say?”

“Exactly.” Merlin beams. “ _Or_ the fact that you’re never more than three seconds away from slipping into your David Attenborough impression. Sorry. Your  _stupid_ David Attenborough impression.”

“Also very rude. My David Attenborough impression is amazing.”

“Hmm. Disagree.” Merlin buries his face in Arthur’s neck, and, because he might as well, leaves little kisses along his jawline. Arthur laughs.

“And here I worried bad impressions and  _allegedly_ inane statements would be turnoffs,” he says, threading his fingers in Merlin’s hair.

Merlin grins that happy grin at him. “You’d have to try a lot harder than that to turn me off you, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur snorts. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Bring it,” Merlin says, eyes glinting.

“You really think I couldn’t do  _anything_ to put you off me?” Arthur can’t help being a little genuinely curious.

Merlin sits back, hand on Arthur’s chest, looking thoughtful.

“Hmm. Can’t think of anything.”

“No?” Arthur hooks his ankle around Merlin’s thigh, uses it to flip them over. Merlin lands beneath him, hair mussed and breathless and laughing.

“What if...” Arthur noses up Merlin’s neck, leaving light kisses, flicks of the tongue. “...the blond human male got stuck in his David Attenborough impression forever? What would his skinny Welsh mate do then?”

“I’d call up the BBC. We’d make a mint.”

Arthur props himself on one elbow, considering. “What if I decided I only wanted to listen to disco music for the rest of my life?”

“I’d have Mum send me her old bellbottoms.”

Merlin’s eyes meet Arthur’s, meeting the challenge at every turn.

“What if I told you I was a serial killer?”

“I’d help you hide the bodies.”

“A cannibal?”

“I’d make you dinner. Do you prefer wing or thigh?”

Arthur starts laughing, and doesn’t stop. He buries his face in Merlin’s chest. “The human mammal doesn’t have wings, Merlin,” he says, as David.

“Wow, you have so much to teach me,” Merlin deadpans. “You’ve got to be the wisest cannibalistic serial-killing disco-loving nature documentarian I’ve ever met.”

“Well, I’ll have lots of time to. Apparently you aren’t going anywhere.”

“Nope,” Merlin says, voice rich with satisfaction at having won. He knots his fingers in Arthur’s hair. “I’m impossible to get rid of. You’re stuck with me for life.”

“Most blokes would be properly terrified to hear that only six months in.”

“Yep,” Merlin agrees, utterly unrepentant. Arthur’s grip tightens around his wrist.

“So we’re on the same page, then,” he says. “That this doesn’t make any kind of sense from a logical point of view.”

“Absolutely none of it.”

“I should definitely be running in terror from your”—Arthur pauses to kiss Merlin’s throat, the pulse point of his wrist, his nose—“abject clinginess.”

“Mm. Definitely.”

“And you  _definitely_  shouldn’t date someone who threatens your safety from disco music. And possibly death.”

“I like disco music. Well, some of it.”

Arthur pulls back to regard him with horror. Merlin quirks an eyebrow.

“Is that enough to put  _you_  off  _me_?”

“Absolutely,” Arthur says, kissing his way down Merlin’s ribcage. “I’m horrified. Disgusted. Never look at you the same way again.”

“I’ll take that as meaning I’m pretty well stuck with you too.”

Arthur surges back up to kiss him, one hand cupping Merlin’s jaw as he ravishes Merlin’s mouth like the world is ending and this is their last conscious moment on earth.

“And don’t you forget it.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments are welcomed with greatest joy and eternal gratitude. And I'm still on [Tumblr](https://ladililn.tumblr.com/), for some reason! Please come say hi, now more than ever. ♥


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